


Friends of Sera

by aquamanisnotuseless



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Depression, Gen, Mental Illness, Minor Inquisitor/Dorian Pavus, Post-Dragon Age: Inquisition - Trespasser DLC, Small Acts of Kindness, in which depression means less "sadness" and more what it felt like to me personally
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-25
Updated: 2019-09-25
Packaged: 2020-10-28 08:43:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20775740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aquamanisnotuseless/pseuds/aquamanisnotuseless
Summary: The inquisitor has very serious plans of staying within the protection of his covers for months on end. Sera finds that unacceptable.





	Friends of Sera

**Author's Note:**

> This can be read on its own, but its set in the same universe as my other inquisition fic. Things to note: Remi accepted Varrics offer of a house in Kirkwall, and Sera lives with him. This is set maybe a month after Trespasser. I hope you enjoy!

Remi would have liked to say that the sudden stream of brightness is what woke him, but it wasn’t. The truth is that he’s been awake for quite some time now. He can’t say how long for certain, but it’s been long enough that his stomach had stopped feeling the ache of hunger and instead steadied into a dull and easily ignored throb. 

It’s been like this for enough days that even if his memory hasn’t been spotty recently, he wouldn’t have remembered the number. It’s been like that, recently, all the days blending together. 

“Get. Up.” Sera’s voice commands from the left side of the room. 

“Nnngh.” Remi eloquently responds, curling into a tighter ball. 

“Just ‘cause it’s your house we’re livin’ in _ doesn’t _ mean you’re free to just _ die _ in a dark corner. C’ _ mon, _ you haven’t left the house in _ days. _Plus, I doubt you’ve even eaten today.” He hadn’t. He also hadn’t eaten the plate of fruit and crackers that he had found on his nightstand yesterday. He had tried, he managed to nibble on a cracker, but it tasted like… like nothing. Everything tasted like nothing nowadays, so he’d just set it back in the kitchen in hopes someone else would eat it. 

“_ Up,” _Sera said again, grabbing his ankles now and pulling him out of bed. Remi squeaked in a rather undignified fashion, scrambling his hand across the sheet. He had always been left-handed, so the weakness of his right was no match for The Power Of Sera. 

“Well, Sera,” Remi says from the floor, catching his breath from the struggle. “I’m _ up. _What did you need?” 

She squints at him. It’s probably supposed to be a glare, but there’s no heat in it, so it doesn’t quite turn out. “We’re going outside. You, specifically, outside, now.”

“Thank you, but I’d really rather not-”

“I_ will _ kick you.” 

Remi scrambles to his feet like a startled rabbit and Sera leaves the room. She throws a wad of clothes at him. They’re wrinkly and clash terribly- something he wouldn’t be caught dead wearing during the years that he was inquisitor, but they were clean. By the smell of him, cleanliness was something he desperately needed in order to be accepted into society. Well, as accepted as a Dalish mage could get, so it wasn’t saying much. Remi dressed and bathed as quickly as possible, frustrated at the extra time that it took to complete tasks that were previously a simple matter for him. 

He stares in the mirror when he’s done, frowning at his reflection. He still hadn’t cut his hair. He should have by now, he can’t take care of it like he used to. It was a pride for him, back then. He’d have so much fun deciding on the styles and braids that he’d weave it into. It’s a tangled mess right now, loose and draped over his back, but it’d have to do. 

Another thing that will never be the same. Another loss he’d have to just _ accept. _

Remi exits his bedroom and calls out, “I’m ready, Sera. Where are we going that's so important?” 

“It’s not the _ place, _ it’s the _ people _ . You know, life forms? _ Not _ the sheets that’re covered in your own sweat. That’s just... _ eugh _. Varric. We’re seeing Varric.”

Remi gives an imitation of a smile in response and starts to pull open the door for them both.   


“Wait wait! I got something for you. Did somethin’. Will do. Whatever. Point is, sit here.” Sera points to an extravagant (read: tacky) chair that came with the house. Remi suspects that it was there when Varric gifted it to him, and not something that he had placed in the house himself. Remi sits and lets Sera fret around him. He trusts her, and willfully ignores when people try to tell him otherwise.

He sees a hand come up next to his head and then hover there for a second. “I forgot to ask, can I touch your hair? I know you get your knickers in a knot over it but I figured, well…” 

Remi nods, glad that she asked. 

She grabs a bit and starts ranking a comb through it. She’s a little rough, but not nearly as rough as his mother had been with it back when he was a child, so Remi doesn’t mind. Sera just didn’t have much practice, but it was obvious that she was trying. As soon as she was done with the comb she threw it over her shoulder. Remi started to turn to look at the sound of the crash as it clearly knocked over _ something _, but she poked his shoulder to stop the action. “Don’t ruin the surprise!”

He obeys. 

Remi feels his hair getting weaved in a familiar pattern. The corner of his mouth lifts slightly. “I didn’t know you can braid.” 

“I can’t. Braid? Pshh. I’m not a schoolgirl, dork.” 

“But you’re-” 

“The surprise! Hush!” 

Oh, how the mighty fall. 

Fifteen minutes later Sera finally says that he can look and brings a mirror to his face. 

“Oh,” Is all Remi can say.

It’s beautiful. He hadn’t expected it to be beautiful. It was horribly messy, tangled beyond belief, and he suspects that there are some sections that would be hell to unravel, but it was beautiful nevertheless. She was right, Sera can’t braid for _ shit _ . She had found forget-me-nots, his favorite flower, and wove dozens of them into his hair. There were daisies and wildflowers spread throughout as well. It was undignified and frazzled and so very _ Sera _. 

He loved it. 

“I know it ain’t sleek and fancy-like or how you usually wear it, but I know you like flowers and, well, I found some this morning,” Sera trailed off. Remi’s grin got bigger as Sera’s blush got redder. She finally shoved him, flustered. “Shut it, you!” 

“I didn’t say anything!” 

Sera pointed a finger a hairsbreadth away from his face before slowly backing out of the door, finger still pointed at him. Finally she turns and darts out, calling out, “C’mon we’re gonna be laaaaate!” 

“One more second!” Remi responds. He quickly grabs his grimoire and opens it to the first available page. Carefully, so as not to disturb the rest of the flowers, he plucks a single forget-me-not from his hair and places it between the pages. He wants something to remember this by before the haze in his mind swallows it from memory. 

He’s sick. He knows it. Sera can’t stop the darkness that’s constantly pressing in, the emptiness of his head that’s dead-set on consuming the bleak days ahead of him. She can’t stop the fact the Remi is short one arm, that his clan was massacred, that Dorian is a whole country away, that most of his inner circle has moved on without him... but she’s there until he gets better. She’s there, and she’s kind. Picking up a quill he writes in hurried handwriting to not keep her waiting:

_ from sera. of all the times you’ll forget, try not to forget this one. _

**Author's Note:**

> let me know what you think!


End file.
